


A question of trust

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2018 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, JayTim Week 2018, M/M, No detailed description, Sharing a Bed, mentions of canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 18:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: “Thanks,” Jason said, but Tim was too distracted to really listen because this was the first time this evening they were alone, the first time they were this close and - Jason was bleeding.It wasn’t immediately evident - very few things were through kevlar and thick black fabric - but he must have been hit by something and now his front was sticky and horribly, horribly wet when Tim reached out to touch it.“Are you injured? Jason-“But Jason was suddenly looking very, very grey and not answering.





	A question of trust

**Author's Note:**

> For day three of JayTim week, prompt: bare skin.

Tim looked up from his computer with a small, satisfied smile. “The police just took Falcone into custody.” 

Dick, of course, didn’t hold back nearly as much, whooping and pulling his Robin into a celebratory hug. Damian just grumbled: “We knew that would happen, imbeciles. Why are you still reacting with surprise?” 

“The satisfaction of a job well done,” Dick was actually answering the question, “of minimal casualties and fewer drugs in Gotham and, most importantly, the siren call of _sleep_ after weeks of working on this thing, right, Jason?” 

There was a small grumble coming from the hitherto silent figure leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Jason had helped them with this one. It wasn’t unusual for him and Tim to work together these days - they’d developed something of a partnership over the last year. Maybe even a friendship, though Tim wasn’t sure whether he wasn’t hoping for too much there. 

For Jason to cooperate with the rest of the batclan was pretty rare, though, and Tim wanted to make sure to show he appreciated it. Taking out an entire organisation always meant splitting up. Jason’s particular brand of cleaning up behind him meant that Tim could concentrate on getting the evidence secured in a way he admittedly couldn’t if it was any of the others watching his back. 

“I’ve acquired some new leads for that other case we were talking about,” he offered quietly, not wanting to be more explicit in front of Dick and Damian. The “Want to stay?” was unvoiced. Putting it into words might spook Jason. 

“…Cool. Let’s see it.” 

Tim very carefully didn’t let the hesitation in Jason’s voice hurt him, just smiled at the acceptance of his offer. 

Dick grinned, too, just a bit more widely than Tim thought the occasion warranted. “Alright, then. We’ll be off.” 

Jason just lifted a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Bye.” 

Dick hugged Tim goodbye, just as always, and Tim hesitated just a second before hugging back. Damian, of course, just rushed out of the apartment. Tim followed him at a more sedate pace, waiting until Dick had vanished from sight before locking his door and re-setting his alarm system. Feeling some of the tensions of the day leave him, he returned to the living room/kitchen space.

And frowned. Jason looked noticeably less relaxed than he had just three minutes ago. In fact, he seemed to lean against the kitchen counter more heavily by the second. Had he been hit? Tim couldn’t say for sure, they had been separated pretty quickly during the fight, but surely someone else would have noticed? 

Suppressing his curiosity, for now, he just asked: “Do you want some painkillers?” 

“If you got any of the good ones.” 

Tim didn’t dignify that with an answer, just got out the OxyContin from under his sink and held them out for Jason, who took them and swallowed them dry. 

“Thanks,” he said, but Tim was too distracted to really listen because this was the first time this evening they were alone, the first time they were this close and - Jason was bleeding. 

It wasn’t immediately evident - very few things were through kevlar and thick black fabric - but he must have been hit by _something_ and now his front was sticky and horribly, horribly wet when Tim reached out to touch it. 

“Are you injured? Jason-“ 

But Jason was suddenly looking very, very grey and not answering. Tim bit down on a curse and moved underneath his arm, trying to support the weight Jason seemed unable to carry all of a sudden. It was a good thing he did, for he could immediately feel Jason go boneless. 

He’d fainted. 

Trying not to panic, Tim dragged him over to his own bed, heaving him on top of the sheets in order to frantically check his pulse. 

It was still there. Slower than usual, but steady. 

Feeling lightheaded with relief, but not trusting it yet, Tim carefully tugged off first the jacket, then the top part of Jason’s suit to assess the damage.

It wasn’t good. Jason had clearly been stabbed several times, and _how had they all missed that_? But if any major organs had been hit, Jason wouldn’t have stayed standing for so long. He’d been moving his arms normally, too, so no tendons cut. It looked like Jason had mostly passed out because of the blood loss, the shock and the pain, a combination Tim was all too familiar with. 

Mentally cursing stubborn idiots who decided their injuries weren’t worth mentioning, he got out his rather well-equipped aid kit and started disinfecting the wounds and taping them back together. 

One of the stab wounds had cleanly bisected the autopsy scar. Tim couldn’t help but hesitate for a second before cleaning that one. It felt wrong to touch it, the only scar Jason hadn’t been around to feel receiving, without Jason being awake to give him permission. Like he was repeating, deepening a trauma.

But there was no helping it. Tim made sure to finish up his task as quickly and clinically as possible. At least it didn’t look like he’d need to organize a blood transfusion tonight. 

He checked Jason’s pulse again. Regular, stronger. His breathing was even in what seemed to be just regular sleep by now. Tim guessed he must have been exhausted even before tonight. The painkillers were likely kicking in by now, too. Tim was glad he had given Jason the industrial-strength ones.

There wasn’t anything else for Tim to do for him right now, no reason for his hands to still rest over the place at the centre of the “y” of Jason’s chest. He stared at it, feeling a little dazed. His hand was pale against Jason’s brown skin.

The truth was: Tim didn’t really know how to touch people. Or rather: He didn’t know how to touch people and _want to_. 

When he was undercover, he had no problem flirting with anyone of any gender, knowing exactly when to let their hands touch. He knew how tight Dick liked his hugs, how much Damien secretly revelled in having his hair ruffled as any younger brother would have. Bruce always put a hand on his shoulders and Tim knew how much he appreciated it when Tim relaxed into it. Steph was one for hugs, too,

So Tim knew all that. He had to think about it, though. Had to consciously decide that _yes, this is how I will touch them_ , be it the first or the 1000th time. He didn’t think other people had to do that. There seemed to be this bubble around him, sometimes - his family and team were apt to ignore it, but regular people? Barely touched him. He noticed that people at Wayne Enterprises were shaking his hand much less than, say, Brucie’s or Tam’s. Meeting new people outside of a business context mostly meant a friendly wave for a greeting, be he in or out of costume. 

Despite what some people might think, Jason wasn’t like that at all. Sure, strangers weren’t exactly likely to go up and greet the huge guy in a leather jacket armed with about eleven firearms at any given time with a hug. But anyone who knew him would. When Jason played video games, he sat right next to his friends on the couch, pressing up against them in laughter. When Jason chatted to the sex workers on his night patrol, he doled out comforting or friendly touches without anything remotely sexual in it. He let Dick hug him and Damian hit him and was only about two years away from letting Bruce close enough to put a hand on his shoulder. 

He touched Tim, too, sat close to him on rooftops, offered a hand after a particularly close fight, squeezed his arm to get his attention when they were looking over case documents. 

Tim had just thought that - he’d thought that for Jason, touches equaled trust, a certain vulnerability. He didn’t like to think about it, but - there must have been points in Jason’s life where he needed someone else’s warmth, their closeness, to survive. He must have been born with that unfathomable quality that most people seemed to have to let others touch them, to touch others, to know how to deal with that, and though his life and death and life had curbed his ability to trust others, once he was comfortable, touch followed. 

Tim was mentally revising that assessment, though.

When Tim decided to touch someone, when he reached out, there was always that mental moment of panic - the expectation that no one would be there, that his touch would be shaken off, that he didn’t matter enough, wasn’t good enough. 

As he gently peeled away the remaining layers of clothing, baring Jason to his gaze, he thought that maybe that was how Jason felt about being seen. That _this_ was Jason being vulnerable. It had nothing to do with touch. Letting Tim see he was hurt - letting him take care of him - that was harder for Jason. 

Tim had no idea what to do with that thought, but he felt the weight of it settle somewhere in his chest. 

He distracted himself by getting up as quietly as he could, covering Jason with a second sheet he got from his closet and putting aside Jason’s suit to be cleaned later - if he had anything to say about it (and he would have), Jason wasn’t going to be needing it for at least a week - and stripping down in the bathroom himself, cursorily washing up before changing into his sleep things. 

For a second, he considered looking for the shirt Dick had left here for the times he stayed over spontaneously, to give Jason something to cover up in, but even Dick’s clothes would be tight on Jason and Tim didn’t want to risk aggravating the wounds on his front by unnecessary pressure. He could forget about pants, anyways - nothing he owned would survive those thighs. Tim would know, he’d stared at them often enough. 

Treading softly, he made his way into the kitchen corner, grabbing a water bottle and the remaining pain meds to put down on the nightstand for when Jason woke. A couple of energy bars, too. Jason would think them disgusting, but Tim didn’t have anything better to offer. 

When he returned to the bedroom with his offerings, Jason had turned onto his side. The sheets around him were still undisturbed, though, so he likely hadn’t actually woken up. Tim thought about putting a pillow in front of Jason to prevent him from rolling onto his belly and hurting himself, but he was lying close enough to the edge that it likely wouldn’t happen. 

There wasn’t anything else he could do for now. Jason needed to rest, be woken up in six hours to take some more meds and then rest some more. There wasn’t anything keeping Tim from facing his dilemma anymore. 

Tim did not want to go sleep on the couch. He knew he’d just sit there, straining to hear any movement from the bedroom, checking on Jason every ten minutes. He wasn’t exactly an anxious person and Jason wasn’t in dire danger, but. 

He thought about sleeping on the floor. That way, he would definitely hear if something was wrong and could make sure Jason wouldn’t just get up and leave in the morning. 

It wasn’t the thought of the uncomfortable hardwood that made him hesitate. Tim’s childhood had included considerably nicer beds than Jason’s, but he’d slept in much worse places than this. No, the truth was simple: He wanted to be closer. He thought he might need it, even, which was weird and new and uncomfortable and not at all the way Tim thought he should be feeling about Jason. 

Then again, it was Jason. When had he ever not defied Tim’s expectations? 

Tim thought again of Jason collapsing only when he was alone with Tim, of him sleeping like this in Tim’s place, and made a decision. 

Jason was lying so far to the side of the bed that Tim couldn’t position them front-to-front, face-to-face, as he’d have preferred. Instead, he slid in just behind him, rolling over until he was basically pressed to the broad outline of Jason’s back. After a second’s hesitation, he brought up a hand and slid it up Jason’s side until it rested just on his hips. He couldn’t exactly hug Jason into him like he really wanted to, not without hurting him, but his way, he could feel Jason’s ribs expanding and conflating with every breath he took. It was good. 

For a while, he drifted like that. It wasn’t quite sleep; he was still too tense for that, too wired up mentally, and anyway, his body wasn’t used to falling asleep without him having worked himself into total exhaustion. 

Gradually, he became aware that Jason was awake. His breath was coming a bit faster, his legs shifting a bit. 

With some effort, Tim lifted his head to glance at his bedside clock. Still three hours left before Jason had to take his meds again. He dropped back into the pillow with a small sigh, not distancing himself from Jason in the slightest. 

Jason wasn’t moving, so Tim wasn’t, either. 

Finally, Jason spoke. “Didn’t mean to collapse on you.” His voice sounded gruff, but Tim knew to ignore that for the embarrassment it was by now. 

“It’s fine.” Well, no. That wasn’t quite the truth. “Next time, tell me sooner.” 

There was a pause. “I don’t like the fuss in the Batcave.” 

“I didn’t say tell anyone else. I said tell _me_ sooner.” 

For a second, he worried he was being too demanding, asking for things Jason wouldn’t give, but - Jason had collapsed on him. He owed him this. 

Anyway, Jason just chuckled briefly. “Will do, babybird. Sorry.” 

Tim finally allowed himself to relax, tucking his head in the groove Jason’s shoulders formed in his back and exhaling slowly. “Then it’s fine.” 

This time, there was a silence in the room for so long that Tim thought Jason had fallen asleep again. He was fine with that. Everything that needed to be said had been said. Jason was still breathing. Tim was still close enough to him to feel proof of that fact. Everything else could wait until the morning. 

But Jason whispered: “You don’t have to, you know.” 

Tim didn’t really feel like lifting his head again, so he just turned in to the side slightly, let his breath ghost along one prominent shoulder blade. “Don’t have to do what?” 

“Touch me.” Jason’s voice was slurring again, but he audibly put effort into continuing. “I know you’re not good with that.” 

“I want to.” It was the truth, and when Tim felt Jason relax at that, slip back into sleep, he couldn’t help but press a small kiss to the bare skin of his back. 

He didn’t even think about it. 


End file.
